2019-08-23 - No Waffles?!

There's a big to-do at the cash register right now, as a woman is just lighting up the manager about how a place called the Waffle Shoppe can possibly be completely out of waffles. The manager is weathering this about as well as anyone that doesn't get paid enough to deal with this kind of bullshit can be expected to weather it: he keeps offering apologies and coupons for free appetizers on her next visit, and the woman keeps being insanely upset. This has caused a bit of an issue right for the late-dinner crowd trying to get service, what with three of the waitresses milling around to see how this turns out.

It's left Hailey sitting at the bar and watching this unfold with a downcast frown. She's got a plate in on the counter in front of her - not waffles, but pancakes are fine - but her back is to it for now. When a busboy goes by, she tries a fruitless, "Ahm, excuse me? Excu--" But he pretends not to hear her and carries his bin of dirty silverware into the back-room, leaving her with a huge sigh.

August has come in to place his customary order of waffles for his employees. It's a treat once a week that they get for making his life (relatively) simpler. (Also they're tasty so he would get them for himself anyways.) As a result the lack of waffles right now is no issue for him, but the dust up is. He just wanted a coffee and an order form. Now he's still here, listening to this.

He scratches at his beard, takes to giving this angry customer a look of exhausted patience, just so she knows the employees aren't the only ones tired of her tantrum.

Alexander wanted waffles. He sidles his way into the shop, freezing inside the door as that loud, loud woman continues to make much noise. But the IMPORTANT part of that noise is that...he wanted waffles, and now there aren't any. His expression - which had been about as cheerful as Alexander ever gets - falls into its more accustomed flatness. But his stomach makes a grumpy rumble, so he slouches his way towards the bar, sitting next to Hailey. Her plate is given the side eye. Pancakes exist. Yay.

Hearing her quiet attempt to get attention from the staff, his head comes up. He stares at her with a blatant sort of rudeness. "I don't know you." At least it's only sort of accusatory. And then he notes an August, and something like a real smile blooms. "Hello August. She's very loud, isn't she?" And yes, he said that loud enough for the woman to hear.

Some people just don't care about the needs and wants of others. This woman having a meltdown is one of them. All the withering looks in the world won't diminish her righteous wrath, and she keeps throwing the coupons for appetizers back at the long-suffering manager, who keeps calmly picking them back up and straightening them out into a nice little stack that he puts on the edge of that little podium where the hostess is meant to stand. The manager tries to acknowledge August with an apologetic smile and a mild, "I'll be right wi--" But he gets cut-off by more of the tirade - which seems to pick up volume after Alexander's helpful comment wafts thataway.

After the last of the coupons gets collected, Hailey just gives up and turns back toward, pushing forward onto her feet on the little rail-thingie at the base of her stool so she can better see over the counter. "We could remedy that," she tells Alexander with a quick, socially correct smile. "If you'll hand me that bundle of silverware," just over there, easier for Alexander to reach than her, "I'll introduce myself, and we'll be solving problems left and right."

There are few times August is tempted to use glimmer on a random stranger, but this is pretty high on the list. He doesn't, though, just schools himself to patientce and gives Alexander a faint smile of hello. "Hey. And, yeah...she is." His smile turns rueful for the manager; he shrugs in a 'don't sweat it' kind of gesture. He can wait a while, he's just on his way home.

He moves to lean against the bar, eyes Hailey in an unvoiced, slightly-more-polite echo of Alexander's blunt 'I don't know you'. The solution she comes up with to her predicament does get a grunt of amusement from him.

Alexander gives the woman a flat look when the volume of her tirade goes up. His fingers tip-tap-tip on his knees as he watches her harangue the manager. There's a blink, a start, when Hailey speaks to him. Her socially correct smile is met with a blank expression, but he does say, "I rather like solving problems. But if you're planning to stab her, you should know that's a crime." He doesn't appear to be sarcastic, as he leans over and grabs the silverware bundle and offers it to her. "On the other hand, if there's a recording of this, hold out for the jury trial. They'll never convict." A pause, then. "Alexander Clayton." His eyes flick to August. Introduce yourself to the stranger so that she will do the same and we will be able to consume her name to feed our own identities!

Or just...be able to call her something not 'woman with silverware'.

Words like 'corporate office' and 'social media' and 'Better Business Bureau' are getting thrown around now. The manager glistens with sweat.

"I should already know that it's a crime, or you're trying to inform me that it's a crime?" Hailey holds a hand around the silverware while that question is posed, then takes the bundle of it, turning up the brightness of the smile to move it from 'socially correct' to 'yay thanks.' "Regardless, hi, Alexander Clayton. I'm Hailey, it's nice to meet you, thank you for making it possible for me to eat before the dinner-show ends." She drops her forehead toward the tantrum still in progress. "She's been at it for a while, so I hope you're not waiting for anything with an expiration date?" That's to August, complete with an apologetic crinkle of her nose on his behalf.

August sighs at Alexander, a sort of friendly yet long-suffering sound. "Pretty sure the only stabbing she wants to engage in is directed at her pancakes." His eyes flick to the woman doing the complaining, back to Hailey. "August Roen," he offers, maybe because Alexander has insisted he do so, maybe because what else is he going to do while he waits for the tantrum to wind down. 'Head office' is usually late-stage, right? Can't be more than another five minutes. "Only thing in danger of expiring is my patience with her, so. No worries. Just placing an order for tomorrow."

His attention drifts for a moment, gaze focusing out across the restaurant like he's trying to listen to something. Then he blinks and looks at Alexander and Hailey again. "No waffle iron at home?" he asks Alexander, tilting his head.

Alexander is not really a patient sort of man, and when Hailey says the rant has been going on for a while, and it looks like it might be going on EVEN longer, his expression turns sour. "Really." A flick of the eyes to Hailey. "That's only half a name." Like she doesn't know that. But he adds, "A third, technically, for many cultures. But people don't usually volunteer middle names, even when I ask." A pause. "You're welcome, Hailey. Enjoy the meal." A shake of his head to August. "No waffle iron. I'm not entirely certain what goes in waffles. For the batter. Eggs? Milk? Flour? Presumably all of those things. I should look it up."

But his eyes don't really leave the ranting woman for long, and as the sound CONTINUES, his fingers come up and massage lightly at his temple. Surely he is just getting a headache, and not sending out psychic waves of CALM THE FUCK DOWN to the woman. No, actually, it's more the latter than the former.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that full names were all the rage. Hailey Stevenson. Hi, August." The entertained look between August and Alexander, beneath quirked brows, hopes everyone is happy now that last names have been shared all around? She's going to start eating her pancakes no matter the answer, but she'll enjoy them more if everyone's cheerful. "From what I can gather, the whole problem is that the restaurant is out of the magic waffle-dust. Which I'm sure includes eggs, milk, flour..." She trails off, chewing thoughtfully.

It's weird to watch someone calm down when she's just been insisting that THE WORLD IS OVER because they can't get waffles. But the red-face of rage pales, and the woman gets in a few deep breaths, and she wipes her eyes with her knuckles, explaining in a post-hysterical fit of waterworks about how waffles with strawberry topping have some sort of emotional significance and blah blah blah. The long and the short of it is: she lost her shit, and she's going to accept the coupons, and she's so sorry for making a scene, Mister Manager.

Hailey may have failed to identify exactly whose responsible for this sudden shift, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have cause to side-eye her two new friends.

August gives Alexander another of his Looks, the kind that convey a lot of meaning, this one in the style of 'just how many Haileys you think there are in this town that without her last name you'll never be able to identify her again'. He shrugs about waffle-making. "Depends on the kind you want, but those are the basics. Some recipes you use yeast and give 'em a rise. Some recipes you use milk, some it's buttermilk. Some it's melted butter, some it's oil and more milk. Pretty easy if you have an iron, but," he makes a face, as Alexander has indicated he has no iron. "Iron takes up a lot of space, anyways."

He nods at Hailey. "Place like this, they often pre-mix for the day, so when they run out, they run out." And really who can blame a restaurant that gets a wild rush.

The telltale ripple of glimmer catches August's attention, but unfortunately, Hailey's scrutiny doesn't. He looks askance at Alexander, now at the diffused situation. "Not bad," he says under his breath, stands to take a spot in line now that he might actually get to place his order.

The nice, safe, chit-chat slowly unwinds itself while Hailey asks August, "Do you work here? Because I didn't want to be a pain, but I could use one of those little things of syr--oh." Her eyes go very wide, her mouth gets stuck in a surprised O, and she she drops her eyes to her plate with renewed interest. Hum-de-dum, pancakes are just so fascinating, she is going to take this exact bite right here and chew on it and be quiet and look 'tween the two of 'em.

Maybe Alexander was expecting someone to look, because even as he breathes a sigh of relief as the noise stops and the woman calms down (no thanks to him, surely), he's catching both the look and mutter from August, and the scrutiny from Hailey. There's a quick flicker of a smile at August, his head ducking a little in an aw shucks sort of way. Although he adds, "That all sounds too complicated when all I want to do is eat a waffle." Then a glance back at Hailey. "Hailey Stevenson. I'll remember that." Goodie?

At any rate, he's able to actually place HIS order too, when a waitress comes around, so he does - breakfast for dinner, with pancakes. Alas, poor waffles.

"Work here? No. But..." Once August is up at the front if the line, he gets his order form and coffee, and asks the waitress for a syrup caddy. Blueberry, maple, and of course, marionberry. He brings it back to Hailey.

He gives Alexander a small, wry smile, which turns sharper when he realizes Hailey is scrutinizing them in a specific kind of way. "Hope you found what you were looking for," he says, setting the caddy down.

Syrup materializes and all Hailey had to do was fail to finish asking for it. Her grateful smile stays in place while she looks at the trio of syrups, turning the handles to be duly impressed with the flavors. She's so happily focused on this for a moment that August's comment goes sailing right over her head, and she tells him pleasantly, "Maple was all that I was after, but marionberry should definitely happen now that I know it's a thing." She drizzles an experimental splash, gawks at the color of it, and only then realizes, "You were talking about the - " Other thing. More back-and-forth eyeing of them. "Ahm, no? Not entirely. Sorry, does it bother you?" Either/both.

Alexander's eyes tick nervously over to Hailey as he feels that brush of power, but he doesn't say anything. Not at first. For one, his tilt of the head towards August suggests the man's comment sums up his thoughts, and for another, a soda has been delivered to his place, and he's taking a hit of that sweet, sweet caffeine. "Marionberry is pretty good," he puts in, quietly, about the syrups. Then the eyeing happens again, and he meets it with a flat stare. Which might not make his toneless, "It doesn't bother me," not sound entirely sincere. "What were you looking for, then? If you didn't entirely find it."

"I like salmonberry, when I can get it," August says, nodding at Alexander. "But it's expensive, and takes a lot of them to make myself. Blueberries are a lot cheaper and easier to get a lot of."

His expression becomes distracted a half-second, then he focuses on Hailey again. "From people I don't know?" He arches an eyebrow. "Let's just say it makes me wary." He sips from his coffee. "But hey, right back atcha." Another small, sharp smile.

"Is that a real thing? Salmonberries?" Hailey turns the handles of the syrup thingies, but - no matter how many times she looks - they still just say what they said the first time. So she's stuck waiting for August to answer her (or she could probably ask Siri but that's too practical). Besides, there's a whole other conversation in play, and she answers Alexander first. "What you can do," with particular stress on that last word. "It's a bad habit, I know, but - " She shrugs as if helplessly.

"Did you have better luck than I did, then?" The question is for August, and she turns her head to deliver it with a brow-quirked look his way. "Some people are easier to pick up than others. I find."

"I don't think I've ever had salmonberry," Alexander admits. "Just what's offered at the shops." He gives an easy shrug. "Blueberries are nice, though; sometimes I'll freeze them and eat them when the summer is hottest." It doesn't involve cooking, after all. He plays with his soda glass, watching the interchange between Hailey and August with near-black eyes. His gaze settles on Hailey, thoughtfully. "You don't seem local. How many people who stand out have you met? That it's a habit." He considers the other answer, then offers without particular discomfort, "I read things. People. What do you do?" It's not comprehensive, but seems to be offered in - if not friendliness - at least a lack of offense.

August's smile eases into something a bit less standoffish. "A real thing," he confirms. "Golden orange to red, really bright, tart flavor. The bushes are," he waves a hand, "all over. Like Himalaya blackberry, but native." His expression eases further at her question. "Yeah, some folks are pretty opaque."

He glances at Alexander. "She's a bit like me," he explains, in the interest of being fair. Then, order form handed over and coffee finished, he gives the mug to a waitress and nods at the both of them. "Catch you later." And with that he's out the door.

The corner of Hailey's mouth pulls - seem local - but she doesn't chase this subject any further. Instead, she tells Alexander frankly, "A lot. I've met a lot of people who Stand Out." The borrowed phrase gets the Title Caps. "I - " Don't have to answer, because August already did so, and she winds up tilting the pokey end of her fork in his general direction, deferring to that tidy little summary of her powerz. "It was nice to meet you!" she calls after him, like it's really important that she get that little social nicety out before he disappears.

Dropping back to her chair, she tells Alexander, "He's one of the opaque people."

Alexander gives August a look that says 'hey, you traitor! Leaving me with the stranger danger!' and his gaze follows the man out, before he turns his gaze, somewhat more tentatively, back to Hailey. "Oh." His brow furrows at that answer, and he falls silent - which is probably good, because his food has just arrived, and he turns his attention to the plate, crunching a piece of bacon meditatively. Once that's finished, he gives her a sidelong look. "How? Are you an actor?" The weird question is offered blandly, although his hand reaches out for his fork, playing idly with it. "August? Yes. I suppose. There's no harm in being protected."

Hailey doesn't pretend that question wasn't weird. She doesn't freak out and scream at him or anything, but the fact that it was odd plays in the confused frown and the slow way she speaks in response. "No. Are you an actor?" To her credit! She manages not to sound like an affirmative response would surprise the bejeezus out of her; maybe Alexander dresses and acts weird because he's on the DL, that's a very Hollywood thing to do. Also, "You're not." Protected.

Alexander shakes his head, and reaches for his other piece of bacon. "I'm not an actor. I don't think I'd be very good at it." He gives her a brief little smile, more of a ghost of a thing than the thing itself. The further volunteered information rather kills that smile, faint though it was. "Oh?" he says, like he doesn't guess that on a regular basis. He reaches for the syrup, the marionberry, and pours it on his pancakes. Then dips his bacon in some of the run off, and nibbles the end. "That's probably not good, is it? Do you travel, Miss Stevenson?"

With a temple-tap and a quick smile, Hailey points out, "You could always just convince people that you were very good at it. They'd never know you were bad at it." What a little problem-solver she is~! She's absolutely been eating this whole time, and has made enough progress on her pancakes that she won't look like the wastefulest person ever when she puts some money down next to her plate, shrugging about the goodness or badness of being protected. "Only if you care if people know what you can do? Which - does it matter if they know or not?" And she answers about traveling like it fits right into the flow of conversation perfectly; "Only as much as I have to. Do you?"

Alexander makes a sound that might, if you squint, be a laugh. "That seems like a lot of work. And a bit dishonest." He seems in no hurry to finish his own food to keep pace with her, enjoying his bacon and his eggs with sort of mechanical motions of eating, most of his attention fixed on her. "It can matter, sometimes. But in general - no, I don't care if they know." A thoughtful pause. "I don't travel much. I did, once, but still not very far. Outside of Gray Harbor, I never really found many people who stood out. Not all in the same place, or long enough to pay attention to them." He doesn't ask the question that follows off from that: so where did you find them, but lets it hang in the air, watching her unwaveringly as he nibbles his bacon down to a splintered meat nub.

Standing, Hailey hesitates for a second, looking around the Waffle Shoppe - which seems pretty shine-free at the moment, except for the two of them - and eventually bringing her attention back around to Alexander. "I piqued your curiosity," she determines, perhaps a little proud of herself. "That's fine. You piqued mine, too. I have to go back to work, though, so take this - " It's a business card. It says her name with that super-expensive M.D. after it, along with various and sundry means of contacting her. She puts it down on the counter where Alexander can take it later... or leave it there for the busboy to throw away later. "And call me sometime, we can trade questions. It was nice to meet you, Alexander Clayton. I'm sorry it had to be a waffle-less encounter."

"You did," Alexander allows. Then peers at her, a bit dubiously. "People usually aren't happy about that. You are new around here." He does take the card, though, reaching out to scoop it from the counter, no attempt to pretend he isn't deeply interested. "It was nice to meet you, Dr. Stevenson. Waffles will happen eventually. One way or the other." There's no other attempt at a parting word. Nor does he turn back to his food. He just watches her leave, almost unblinking.